Mid May, the temperature is consistently hitting around 100degrees farenheit these days. That's at least 40degrees Celcius to all you canucks still tuning in to the Mountain Man's posts. Its hot. I find myself hiding from the sun now to lessen the exposure as much as possible. Yesterday I set out on my bike for three hours into the hills of MacDonald Ranch in behind our community where much development was started and then stopped when the 'Big Crash' came. I entered through a construction site and climbed up over the dozer packed earth to a rocky outcrop which loomed above, begging to be explored. Up beyond the scars of development, the landscape remains relatively untouched, rocky and wild. The bike could no long function here so I wheeled it up to a spot where I figured I could make a good descending drop from. Then I climbed the rest of the way over the rocks, being very wary of rattlesnakes. The hilltop presented a most impressive panorama overlooking the city of Vegas, from the untamed mountain ranges to the developments on the edges, and the vast expanse of city in the desert bowl. I kicked myself once again for not having my camera to document the scene, but I don't even think my crappy ol' CanonA540 would be able to capture it for what its worth. I'll have to come back to get the shots anyway.
I could see the entire valley. I could also make out worn bike paths extending along the hillsides far across the way, and a closer path that descended in the opposite direction from where I'd just climbed to. I went back and heaved my bike over my shoulder and climbed up to the summit again. This was the path that would lead me down, I was sure of it. And so I trekked along the edge of its rocky peak, each vista presenting another picturesque moment. I descended down to where the rocks gave way to the sand-packed earth which brought me to a fork in the path. Left or right? I chose right. The left path led back down to the construction site, and I wanted to tackle the wildness not the scarred landscape of man. Down I went, descending an angled, narrow, shaled pathway. I was nervous, the rocks slipped from under my wheels in places and the sidehill I was descending got steeper, and the angle of the hillside got steeper. Then came the switchbacks. As confident as I am on a bike, I am no professional. How does one handle a downhill switchback on loose ground?? I dismounted for the first one, wondering whether I should go on. I tried the next one but lost it overcompensating to the uphill side. My confidence was low. I studied the curve and my positioning from off the bike, pushing it through and visualizing what needed to be done to negotiate it, but then I lost it on the next as well. Down and down over the course of the mountainside I rolled until suddenly, the trail disappeared over the edge of a cliff... the new development which was being built on the front of this mountain needed a road to get to it, and this is where the trail and the mountainside itself disappeared. Fuck!! I mounted back up and rode back up to the last switchback and decided not to climb anymore on wheels, but to carry the bike straight up over the side of the hill to the trail far above. And being the responsible rider I am, I decided to make a little monument at the mouth of the trail for future riders to know that this is a non-exit trail.
Another trail brought me down the other side of the hill down a path which came to an intense rockface-jump-off-descending trail over a small cliff.... the experts... those kids you see with full suspension bikes and disc brakes and riding armor and reckless abandon... dammit!! I'll never get that good because I don't have the balls for it. I started this life way too late for that and value my face and my body too much to attempt these things. So for the second time on the day I was thwarted by a path I could not follow. Back up the hill I went and found my own unmarked path back down to the construction site.
I wasn't beat, but my bike was showing the signs of abuse. I'd started the day with a flat back tire which I needed to continually check and pump during the day, and when I arrived home my front tire was pretty much flat along with the back one. It was a punishing day for the bike. Time to do some bike maintenance.
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Thursday, May 17, 2012
KONA & The Mountain Man Tackle the Desert
I love mountain biking! Some many years ago my Great Uncle Farren left me a sum of money in his will which allowed me to purchase one hell of a machine, the KONA Lava Dome! I knew from experience that I needed a bike that could handle a lot of abuse, would be enjoyable to ride, and would last me for a long, long time. I had had a bike for years when I was in Fredericton, a heavy, Canadian Tire machine called the Free Spirit. I was young and could push that tank wherever it needed to go, but after trying out a few of my friends' more expensive bikes, I realized the physical toll my bike was taking on body and the limitations of cheap machines. Some years later, I was living in Ottawa and ended up moving from the downtown area to the outskirts of town, right next to the city's designated Greenbelt. I missed my bike riding days a lot and was all of a sudden in desperate need of another form of transportation. The money from my Great Uncle came from out of the blue just when I really needed it, and so I went shopping. Though it was an expensive purchase I knew immediately, on that very first test run that that bike would be coming home with me, despite its' purple color which I despised. The KONA was a tough, well built machine, and the ride got me right away. I reasoned of its ugliness, 'At least no one would want to steal it' or, 'At least they will be able to find me if we end up at the bottom of a ravine in the woods somewhere'. I named her 'The Purple People Eater' because I knew that blood would be spilt over her, and I was right. I have a history of accidents.
I know that one should never ride a bicycle drunk. But I am supremely confident in my skills as a rider, and so I take that risk when I have to. I also know that I am accident prone in even the safest of conditions. For instance, arriving home last week after my intense excursion into the desert I was maybe 50feet from my front door when suddenly, my front tire veered off the smooth, curvy paved walkway and jack-knifed into the crushed rock and crashed into a bush, stopping the bike completely in its tracks and slamming my nuts into the steering column. At least if I'm drunk there's a good explanation for it, like barreling into an unlit sidewalk-construction zone at 2 in the morning. That's reasonable. But I've had the same sort of spills on dead-sober sunny days, ripping and tumbling and bleeding for no other reason than my own ill fated existence. I'm a damn'd good rider, but these things tend to happen to me alot so I've learned to always wear a helmet and never trust that its just a simple ride to the cornerstore!
On my first ride in Vegas, I tackled a mountainous single path, the Anthem East Trailhead starting out from the Del E. Webb middle school. Immediately the hot desert air sucked my mouth dry and I couldn't catch my breath. I am out of shape right now, and the super cheap beer down here isn't helping my fitness level any. The heat was intense, and I knew right away that I hadn't brought enough water to see this through. I wasn't sure where the trail would lead me, I just knew that I was going to the top of the hill. The signs warned, 'This is Rattlesnake Country', to stay on the trails and venture up there at night at your own risk when the snakes are known to come out onto the paved path. Beyond the paved trail the single track became a narrow sandy trail with rocks sticking out in every direction. It was a long, tough climb. Outside of the track is a no-man's land of dead scrub-brush, small sickly-looking cactuses and billions of chunks of black, volcanic rock of all sizes that completely cover the whole landscape of Vegas. I will have to do some geological research on this. There was a massive volcanic eruption here at one time which spewed billions of blackened rocks across the desert. They are mostly smooth and soft looking with bubbles that resemble an AREO bar of all sizes up to about the size of a kitchen table. Some look as though they are painted light brown on the bottom, which upon closer inspection is an entirely different rock form, the ancient seabed which has now become the desert rockbed, concrete, jagged and deadly. You don't want to fall off your bike onto any of these rocks or any of these desert plants. Not like back in New Brunswick where the forest can be a little forgiving to dismounted riders. There are no good places to land here.
The trail twisted and turned, up and up til I finally reached the summit... of this hill. I stopped to rest and looked out. The hills before me stretched out forever, and the thin brown lines of trails stretched down across the valley and way out into the horizon. There would be no following those trails on this machine today. I made my way down into the valley then a long slog back up the other side to the top of another hill. 40mins in, I was done and had to resolve to come back another day. I found a vehicle access road and began my journey home, a very steep descent! The bike wanted to go fast but I kept the back brake almost locked up to maintain control, standing up on the pedals my legs burned like a skier, negotiating my line through the rocks carefully down over the steep slope. Its the loose stuff that always gets ya! When all of a sudden your tires get bogged and slide in unknown directions. But, I'm happy to report there were no accidents on this day and I safely returned home.
On my second ride out I decided to head south on Sunridge Heights to Fleischman St where it dumps into the desert. I wanted to see how long it would take me to get to the 'M' casino on bike, southwest as the crow flies. I mapped it out my excursion beforehand so I knew my return route, very important for this directionally-challenged Mountain Man. This tangent towards the 'M' would take me straight across the black rocked desert that skirts the Executive Airport and St. Rose parkway, a route I knew would be tough going. It is a damn'd good thing I have a bike worthy of taking the punishment I dish out, because this desert ride was probably the most intense riding I've done in a long time. It was a task of insanity, nobody in their right mind would ever choose to go this route to reach that meaningless goal. But I like the challenge, the workout, and was curious about the landscape. This is the same section of land which I'd seen the coyotes a few weeks before but I didnt' see them this time. I suprised many lizards along the way, spotted a very small owl who watched me intently, and was shocked by a giant hare that scared the hell out of me when he bolted out of the
bushes in massive, zigzagging, 20foot hops! I actually thought it was a small white-tailed deer at first, not much smaller than my dog Clancy. A Jackalope!! For nearly 2hrs I pushed and grinded my way over the boulders of no-man's land and across the desert til I finally came to the casino. I was drained, I bought a hot dog and some water at the gas station to refuel and returned home on the paved bike pathway. It only took 25mins to get back home. This ride too, was without incident until I reached the safety of the complex and somehow lost control on the curved walkway and ended up jamming my nuts into the steering column. Ah well, such is life.
Thanks for reading.
I know that one should never ride a bicycle drunk. But I am supremely confident in my skills as a rider, and so I take that risk when I have to. I also know that I am accident prone in even the safest of conditions. For instance, arriving home last week after my intense excursion into the desert I was maybe 50feet from my front door when suddenly, my front tire veered off the smooth, curvy paved walkway and jack-knifed into the crushed rock and crashed into a bush, stopping the bike completely in its tracks and slamming my nuts into the steering column. At least if I'm drunk there's a good explanation for it, like barreling into an unlit sidewalk-construction zone at 2 in the morning. That's reasonable. But I've had the same sort of spills on dead-sober sunny days, ripping and tumbling and bleeding for no other reason than my own ill fated existence. I'm a damn'd good rider, but these things tend to happen to me alot so I've learned to always wear a helmet and never trust that its just a simple ride to the cornerstore!
On my first ride in Vegas, I tackled a mountainous single path, the Anthem East Trailhead starting out from the Del E. Webb middle school. Immediately the hot desert air sucked my mouth dry and I couldn't catch my breath. I am out of shape right now, and the super cheap beer down here isn't helping my fitness level any. The heat was intense, and I knew right away that I hadn't brought enough water to see this through. I wasn't sure where the trail would lead me, I just knew that I was going to the top of the hill. The signs warned, 'This is Rattlesnake Country', to stay on the trails and venture up there at night at your own risk when the snakes are known to come out onto the paved path. Beyond the paved trail the single track became a narrow sandy trail with rocks sticking out in every direction. It was a long, tough climb. Outside of the track is a no-man's land of dead scrub-brush, small sickly-looking cactuses and billions of chunks of black, volcanic rock of all sizes that completely cover the whole landscape of Vegas. I will have to do some geological research on this. There was a massive volcanic eruption here at one time which spewed billions of blackened rocks across the desert. They are mostly smooth and soft looking with bubbles that resemble an AREO bar of all sizes up to about the size of a kitchen table. Some look as though they are painted light brown on the bottom, which upon closer inspection is an entirely different rock form, the ancient seabed which has now become the desert rockbed, concrete, jagged and deadly. You don't want to fall off your bike onto any of these rocks or any of these desert plants. Not like back in New Brunswick where the forest can be a little forgiving to dismounted riders. There are no good places to land here.
The trail twisted and turned, up and up til I finally reached the summit... of this hill. I stopped to rest and looked out. The hills before me stretched out forever, and the thin brown lines of trails stretched down across the valley and way out into the horizon. There would be no following those trails on this machine today. I made my way down into the valley then a long slog back up the other side to the top of another hill. 40mins in, I was done and had to resolve to come back another day. I found a vehicle access road and began my journey home, a very steep descent! The bike wanted to go fast but I kept the back brake almost locked up to maintain control, standing up on the pedals my legs burned like a skier, negotiating my line through the rocks carefully down over the steep slope. Its the loose stuff that always gets ya! When all of a sudden your tires get bogged and slide in unknown directions. But, I'm happy to report there were no accidents on this day and I safely returned home.
On my second ride out I decided to head south on Sunridge Heights to Fleischman St where it dumps into the desert. I wanted to see how long it would take me to get to the 'M' casino on bike, southwest as the crow flies. I mapped it out my excursion beforehand so I knew my return route, very important for this directionally-challenged Mountain Man. This tangent towards the 'M' would take me straight across the black rocked desert that skirts the Executive Airport and St. Rose parkway, a route I knew would be tough going. It is a damn'd good thing I have a bike worthy of taking the punishment I dish out, because this desert ride was probably the most intense riding I've done in a long time. It was a task of insanity, nobody in their right mind would ever choose to go this route to reach that meaningless goal. But I like the challenge, the workout, and was curious about the landscape. This is the same section of land which I'd seen the coyotes a few weeks before but I didnt' see them this time. I suprised many lizards along the way, spotted a very small owl who watched me intently, and was shocked by a giant hare that scared the hell out of me when he bolted out of the
bushes in massive, zigzagging, 20foot hops! I actually thought it was a small white-tailed deer at first, not much smaller than my dog Clancy. A Jackalope!! For nearly 2hrs I pushed and grinded my way over the boulders of no-man's land and across the desert til I finally came to the casino. I was drained, I bought a hot dog and some water at the gas station to refuel and returned home on the paved bike pathway. It only took 25mins to get back home. This ride too, was without incident until I reached the safety of the complex and somehow lost control on the curved walkway and ended up jamming my nuts into the steering column. Ah well, such is life.Thanks for reading.
Friday, May 11, 2012
WorldMark Expo & Jubilee
As you wander Vegas, you are inundated with all sorts of cheap tricks designed to draw money out of your pocket. First and foremost, the layout and design of the Strip is maximized to corral the flow of pedestrian traffic into Casinos and areas of commerce. You are at their mercy to walk where they want you to walk, hear what they want you to hear, and see what they want you to see. Within this framework, there are street freaks dressed up as movie characters, buskers doing all sorts of weird shit, musicians, and armies of porn-ticket dispensemen dishing out business-card sized porn ads to whoever will take them, using handfuls of tickets as percussion instruments by zipping them across their fingers to create different rhythmic patterns. If you ever go by them, you should take one just for the experience :)
And then there are the professional promotional people hired by the casinos in order to fill their venues every night. Show tickets are expensive so anything we can get for cheap or free we are going to take advantage of. We were approached by a casino-lady in the street and were directed to a booth just inside the door. I smelled the sales pitch and the bile started rising in my throat, but Tanya is eager to try and experience everything in Vegas and so we stayed. For $40, we reserved our spot at a time-share expo put on by WorldMark by Wyndham, which we would get back if we attended the session. For only 2hrs (it was 3hrs) of our time we would receive 2 free show tickets and 2 free buffet tickets. The show tickets for 'Jubilee' were $75 each, and we wanted to see it so we signed up for the presentation.
The presentation by the WorldMark guy was pretty good. The short story of the whole pitch was, that if you spend say, $2500 a year vacationing, after 10yrs you have spent $25,000 on vacations and have nothing to show for it. But if you invest in 10yrs of vacationing in a time-share group up front, then you've INVESTED that money, and they give you your purchased vacation time back every year til the end of eternity. After 10yrs it your investment would be paid off and your vacations would become FREE because you are a member of their group. Your shares can also be willed to your kids, you can bring friends along or share it with other people, so it just keeps building in value as the cost of vacationing keeps goes up every year. It made complete sense to me, and if I would have had $35,000-$60,000 of expendable cash in my pocket that day, I would have bought in. But of course, that is just not reality.
The thing that stuck in my side the most about his presentation was when he explained it and wrote it out on paper, that in the past 10yrs, with no accumulated interest in our vacationing habits, we've WASTED 100% of our money on vacationing instead of investing that money in a vacation time sharing program. I read those words on his paper and my veins ignited with adrenaline. I pointed at it and looked at Tan and drew out my thick country drawl, "Lookie there Tan," I said, "We've been complete fuckin' idiots all this time, wasting all our money on vacations by visitin' friends and relatives, campin' and roamin' all around the maritimes..." He was taken aback by this and forced to revise his statement to chill the air, saying that from a 'business perspective', our money was just going away instead of being invested into something that would continue to become more valuable over time, "100% FINANCIAL WASTE". Indeed. We declined the offer, so they brought in the relief sales-pitcher for one last swing at us and this time, he convinced us to sign up for the 'trial' version of their program. They weren't slick or greasy about it or anything, and I liked both those guys. They just laid it out matter-of-factly and stated the truth. If you plan on continuing to vacation at resorts around the world, it makes smarter business sense to invest in something like this. So we signed up for the trial version that will pay for our stay in Hawaii when we decide to make that trip, so it should be worth it. But that '100% wasted vacations' statement really bothered me. I've never wasted ANY of my vacation time. I've been wasted on vacation a few times, but I've never wasted it. At the end of the day we got our $40 back, our show tickets to go see 'Jubilee', and free buffet tickets.
On monday night we set out for the show. Jubilee has been running for 3decades and has continually received accolades as one of the top shows of its kind in the world. Truth be told I wasn't sure what we were about to experience, so there were no expectations. It also should be noted that I'm not a fan of musicals. A friend once called me 'un-cultured' because I didn't like The Who's 'Tommy'. I just don't have the stomach for that show-tune shit, and so I walked into it unaware.
The theatre at Bally's was nice, our seats were near the back and we were early which allowed me time to sip my double rum and enjoy the pre-show spectacle. The theatre was quite empty until the tour buses started arriving and then all at once a great number of asians began pouring into the auditorium. The air was suddenly filled with the gurgles of hundreds of people walking around in confusion trying to find their seats in languages we didn't understand. Tan and I giggled and helped a few lost souls read their tickets and point them in the right direction and for about 15 minutes it was a pretty funny scene.
When the show started, my stomach sank. Fucking show-tunes and gay chorus lines! The stage filled up with about 60 topless women, scantilly clad, bookended and interspersed by a few goodie-two shoe'd wholesome show-boys. The ladies were fantastic, but we were too far back to fully appreciate all the beauty that was before us. You would have to be down on the floor to get the overwhelming specialness of the show I guess. From where we were, those 60 hot bodies and 120 tits blended to be just part of the whole set and really not all that special at all. The asian guys all around us were perched on the fronts of their seats with binoculars to get a closer look. I would prefer the up close and personal show of a stripper rather than this old-style, showgirl grandiosity. My innards churned at the brutal music and singing and choreography, song after song, scene after scene in my own personal hell that lasted for over an hour. The saving moments of the night were the breaks in the show when the music and singing stopped, the curtains
closed and circus performers came out to the refreshing pulse of industrial,
techno music. There were a few different acts, totally independent from
the show and incredibly talented performers.
The rum was excellent and the beer was good too, but not good enough to help me enjoy Jubilee. Tanya really enjoyed it though, so all was good. I will also give their show full appreciation for their elaborate costumes and incredible set designs. The spectacle was quite something to see so I am glad we got to experience it, but that kind of thing is lost on me, the 'un-cultured' mountain man.
You can find a better review of Jubilee HERE.
Thanks for reading.
And then there are the professional promotional people hired by the casinos in order to fill their venues every night. Show tickets are expensive so anything we can get for cheap or free we are going to take advantage of. We were approached by a casino-lady in the street and were directed to a booth just inside the door. I smelled the sales pitch and the bile started rising in my throat, but Tanya is eager to try and experience everything in Vegas and so we stayed. For $40, we reserved our spot at a time-share expo put on by WorldMark by Wyndham, which we would get back if we attended the session. For only 2hrs (it was 3hrs) of our time we would receive 2 free show tickets and 2 free buffet tickets. The show tickets for 'Jubilee' were $75 each, and we wanted to see it so we signed up for the presentation.
The presentation by the WorldMark guy was pretty good. The short story of the whole pitch was, that if you spend say, $2500 a year vacationing, after 10yrs you have spent $25,000 on vacations and have nothing to show for it. But if you invest in 10yrs of vacationing in a time-share group up front, then you've INVESTED that money, and they give you your purchased vacation time back every year til the end of eternity. After 10yrs it your investment would be paid off and your vacations would become FREE because you are a member of their group. Your shares can also be willed to your kids, you can bring friends along or share it with other people, so it just keeps building in value as the cost of vacationing keeps goes up every year. It made complete sense to me, and if I would have had $35,000-$60,000 of expendable cash in my pocket that day, I would have bought in. But of course, that is just not reality.
The thing that stuck in my side the most about his presentation was when he explained it and wrote it out on paper, that in the past 10yrs, with no accumulated interest in our vacationing habits, we've WASTED 100% of our money on vacationing instead of investing that money in a vacation time sharing program. I read those words on his paper and my veins ignited with adrenaline. I pointed at it and looked at Tan and drew out my thick country drawl, "Lookie there Tan," I said, "We've been complete fuckin' idiots all this time, wasting all our money on vacations by visitin' friends and relatives, campin' and roamin' all around the maritimes..." He was taken aback by this and forced to revise his statement to chill the air, saying that from a 'business perspective', our money was just going away instead of being invested into something that would continue to become more valuable over time, "100% FINANCIAL WASTE". Indeed. We declined the offer, so they brought in the relief sales-pitcher for one last swing at us and this time, he convinced us to sign up for the 'trial' version of their program. They weren't slick or greasy about it or anything, and I liked both those guys. They just laid it out matter-of-factly and stated the truth. If you plan on continuing to vacation at resorts around the world, it makes smarter business sense to invest in something like this. So we signed up for the trial version that will pay for our stay in Hawaii when we decide to make that trip, so it should be worth it. But that '100% wasted vacations' statement really bothered me. I've never wasted ANY of my vacation time. I've been wasted on vacation a few times, but I've never wasted it. At the end of the day we got our $40 back, our show tickets to go see 'Jubilee', and free buffet tickets.
On monday night we set out for the show. Jubilee has been running for 3decades and has continually received accolades as one of the top shows of its kind in the world. Truth be told I wasn't sure what we were about to experience, so there were no expectations. It also should be noted that I'm not a fan of musicals. A friend once called me 'un-cultured' because I didn't like The Who's 'Tommy'. I just don't have the stomach for that show-tune shit, and so I walked into it unaware.
The theatre at Bally's was nice, our seats were near the back and we were early which allowed me time to sip my double rum and enjoy the pre-show spectacle. The theatre was quite empty until the tour buses started arriving and then all at once a great number of asians began pouring into the auditorium. The air was suddenly filled with the gurgles of hundreds of people walking around in confusion trying to find their seats in languages we didn't understand. Tan and I giggled and helped a few lost souls read their tickets and point them in the right direction and for about 15 minutes it was a pretty funny scene.
When the show started, my stomach sank. Fucking show-tunes and gay chorus lines! The stage filled up with about 60 topless women, scantilly clad, bookended and interspersed by a few goodie-two shoe'd wholesome show-boys. The ladies were fantastic, but we were too far back to fully appreciate all the beauty that was before us. You would have to be down on the floor to get the overwhelming specialness of the show I guess. From where we were, those 60 hot bodies and 120 tits blended to be just part of the whole set and really not all that special at all. The asian guys all around us were perched on the fronts of their seats with binoculars to get a closer look. I would prefer the up close and personal show of a stripper rather than this old-style, showgirl grandiosity. My innards churned at the brutal music and singing and choreography, song after song, scene after scene in my own personal hell that lasted for over an hour. The saving moments of the night were the breaks in the show when the music and singing stopped, the curtains
closed and circus performers came out to the refreshing pulse of industrial,
techno music. There were a few different acts, totally independent from
the show and incredibly talented performers. The rum was excellent and the beer was good too, but not good enough to help me enjoy Jubilee. Tanya really enjoyed it though, so all was good. I will also give their show full appreciation for their elaborate costumes and incredible set designs. The spectacle was quite something to see so I am glad we got to experience it, but that kind of thing is lost on me, the 'un-cultured' mountain man.
You can find a better review of Jubilee HERE.
Thanks for reading.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Encounter in the Desert...
I remember, back in the day when Tanya decided to get her first dog. We had just moved into a one bedroom apartment, and it was one of those 'make-or-break' moments that define a relationship. I told her straight up and down, 'Tanya, there's no fucking way are you getting a dog', giving the limited space we had in our apartment. And what did she do? Of course, she got a dog. She wanted one, and Tanya usually gets what she wants, so it was me or the dog. It wasn't a big decision for her when she came home with Cosmo. And me, well at the time I was dispensable, but that crossroads was a big one in our life. Tanya got sick with severe colitis very soon after, and Cozmo became my sole responsibility, my first dog. I would never leave this family. But there was something wrong with Cozmo. Was it him, or was it me? In time I came to realize it was him, and we spent a lot of awkward times together to try and figure it all out. It was both of us, really. Damaged souls. Ol' Coz left us last year and was very lively and happy til the day we made that difficult decision to let him go. His body just could not keep up to his insane crazy-Cozmo mindset and he was beginning to hurt himself doing the things he used to be able to do naturally. At 13, it was time for our family to move on and we made the natural decision to let him go. I can say though, that since my first defiant stance against it, Tanya proved so right in this, that we should always have dogs and I believe we always will from here on out.
We moved to Vegas with Zuma, the 9.5Lb black and white Pomeranian and Clancy, the red dog, a Shepherd/Collie mix. It was a whole new world for all of us, into a two bedroom apartment on a ground floor. We were used to the house and the backyard where the boys could run free. But the new reality is so much more restrained. No more running free (well, sometimes), and no more patrolling in the house to loudly announce what is going on outside. I have become the Window-Nazi, checking each and every hint of anxiety before it becomes a full blown, barking alarm. Crate training has become absolutely necessary when we're gone, and they have relented to that. I get them out four times a day at least, two of those are walking walks for exercise. And at least every second day I take them out on an adventure to let them run free to get their energy out.
Last week, I took them out on one of these adventures. Zuma has become wary of my adventures now. He lulls around a bit when we get outside. He WANTS to go outside, he just doesn't entirely trust where that will take him. Hell, I don't usually know where that will take him. And on this day, we would cross lands unknown to all of us. Y'see, I like to explore. I like to get a feel and a taste for the land, what kind of ground it is, what kind of rocks, what kind of foliage, how dense is it, what kind of animals live here. All these questions. I feel its an activity we should do as a pack, so I always bring the dogs with me whenever I'm exploring. Vegas and its surrounding area is vast with unexplored territory, and this is why I am writing this blog. To entertain YOU, of course, but to mark it in my own journal as well. The landscape here is strewn with with millions of particles of a black volcanic rock of all sizes, kinda like Aero bars filled with bubbles. And then there are the sandstone rocks which once composed the ocean's bed. All these things I need to know about, and so I must explore in depth.
We were aimed for Vivaldi Park, which has trails that run alongside the Executive Airport. We'd been there before so I knew it was a good place to let the dogs go and watch some cool airplanes take off and land. But we missed the park by a long shot and ended up driving along the Volunteer's Highway, to a wide expanse of undeveloped desert which had already been earmarked for development with paved roads and cul-de-sacs already in place. I thought this was a good place for us to get out and explore the desert off leash, so we parked the rented KIA Soul and away we went. I realized quite quickly the ground wasn't too dog friendly. First off, the amount of broken glass is astounding. Contraire to the old way of thinking, the desert does not pick up after you and whisk away broken bottles. Secondly, there were thousands of tiny little golf-ball sized cactuses rising from the dirt everywhere. The dogs didn't seem too affected, but I had to get them out of there and decided to stick to the pavement to view the landscape from its defined edges. We ended up in a dead-end cul-de-sac where there was a bunch of dumped garbage, not the eating kind, but rusting bedframes and metal and plastic and stuff. I was marveling at the amount of plastic garbage stuck to the underbrush all around when suddenly, my eye was caught off guard by movement just above the landscape. I noticed a dog... a coyote, completely still, and watching us not 20yrds away. My mind snapped and when I focused in on his frame my eye caught three more, then five. They were spread out from left to right across the landscape in front of us ranging about 30-40yrds away. A chill went up my spine and I grabbed a rock and called to the boys to come, let's go! They knew that they'd been spotted and started moving away but kept they're eyes turned back on us as we moved out of their area back to the car, which wasn't far off. Once our pack was safe, I turned the car around and saw that two of the coyotes were now on the road where we had just been and were coming our way, following our tracks. I drove into them slowly to get a closer look and they made their way off, one to the left and one to the right. The one on the right didn't go far off the road and we were able to drive right up beside him, maybe 30feet away from us. What a beautiful animal, perfectly camoflauged against the grey desertscape, a svelt body, a big bushy tail tucked into his hind legs and slitted eyes, watching us. He was Clancy-sized, but a killer not a domesticanine. The boys hadn't even seen him yet, so I pointed him out to them, and then they started barking. Zuma warned me and Clancy was super excited to see another dog. The coyote was unaffected by their dog language and slipped away into the desertscape.
The threats of the desert. Water is the big one. I've learned very quickly to have lots of water for all companions, dogs and humans alike. The sun alone will kill you if you are not prepared. And the wildlife. All this time, I'd been watching for the things on the ground that could hurt the dogs, it never occured to me that there would be packs of wild dogs within city limits that would be dangerous. Or, as I learned this past weekend, there are plenty of predators in the sky that could easily pick up a pomeranian and be gone! This is the desert. Eat or be eaten. Protect your pack!
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
The Cupid
As one of our first friday night outings in Las Vegas, Tanya took me down to Fremont Street, which is
famous for a lot of things, most recently for its ginormous
canopy of LED video screens which obliterate the sky for a full 3-blocks. Its cool in a geeky how'd-they-do-that sorta way, but I'm a hummbugger for the Vegas schticks and fake fantasies. I don't like the
crowds, the freaks, the smoke, the intense bombardment of sounds and flashing
lights, and the whole letloose-anything-goes vegas vibe. I would have to have to be really drunk to enjoy the scene down there. Plus, Tanya took me there hungry, which she should have known better not to do. The smoke and the crowds of the casino did me in right away and finding food away from the mayhem became critical.
We wandered away from Fremont and found some peaceful streetside seats on the patio of the Mob-Bar for a little something to eat. They had a tapas menu, with everything about $5-$10. Service was excruciatingly slow but that was OK, lots of time to quell the nerves and centre myself over beers and Tanya's company. The drawn out 1.5hr dinner was amazing and our waitress comp'd us a round of beers for our extended wait for food and many apologies for the slowness of their kitchen, so all was well. One thing I can say about Vegas, the service is Tops! They WANT you at their establishment and they're happy to serve you, whether its fake or not who knows but I get the feeling its genuine because it happens everywhere you go. You want to leave a tip for them, because they care. After some food and beer, I was ready for the crowds again and we wandered back into the madness.
I'll tell ya a tale of the Vegas freaks. They're everywhere! From the visiting drunks who get out of control and make asses of themselves in public to the people who make it their life's work to dress up as movie characters and wander Fremont or the Strip and play movie character roles, making money by people getting their picture taken with them. Some of the characters are good, some are just horrible. Some make no sense whatsoever. Some, I think, are just regular Joe's who are deciding that today, because anything goes in Vegas, I will wander the crowd with my balls hanging out just to see how long I can get away with it. I haven't seen that yet and hope I never do, but I know its out there somewhere. The freaks, publicly playing out the human fantasy.
It was 10pm. Every hour the Fremont lights dim to make way for the Big Show, the ginormous LED screen canopy comes to life to honor long gone rock'n rollers with a video montage set to their music and played through an amazing, kickass sound system of hundreds of speakers. Everything on Fremont street stops in its tracks to stare at the kaleidescope of video overhead. I was ready to leave earlier but Tan urged me to stay for the Doors show, and being a big fan I was OK with that. We staked out a good spot, and the street stopped moving as the lights dimmed and the sound came up all around.
I was staring at the ceiling watching the video and enjoying the music when all of a sudden, an old man flittered past me and the first thing I noticed was that he wasn't wearing any pants and has his underwear jimmied up his ass crack. He whirled into the crowd like a ballet dancer in his barefeet and a dirty old white t-shirt, and had a pair of feathery fairy wings strapped to his back. He was also wielding a badly designed bow and arrow with a fat, red heart on the end of his arrow. I clued in, he's supposed to be a cupid. A terrible, old, gay fucking cupid. With exception of his badly designed wings and bow, he was just a gross old man in his t-shirt and underwear up his ass, twirling about in public doing ballet moves he shouldn't be doing. It was repulsive. He flirted and twirled about the crowd looking for a place to strike, but everywhere he flittered the people moved back. It seemed innocent enough but he was freaking people out and soon, a wide berth opened up all around him and all the paparrazzi got their cameras out to take pictures and film him. I was right on the edge of this vortex of madness but I refused to move from my space, trying to ignore him and just waiting for him to tempt me so i could shove a big Fuck Off fist in his face. Tanya was freaked out too, and called me to move away from him. The old man flittered around the crowd, pitifully alone in his ever-widening circle from person to person, couple to couple, seeking the attention no one would give him while Jim Morrison screamed 'Break on Through to the other side' high above the scene. This went on an awkwardly long time until suddenly, out from of the crowd came a deliciously curvy young blonde, striding seductively out towards him in her bare feet, long curly locks and a short, skin tight white dress! She sashayed up to him and put her arms around his neck and joined the old man in his flittering dance of love! The Cupid was all aglow, so happy his aphrodite had finally arrived! She played the part so well too, so sexy, so delicious! I'm sure every man in the audience was envious of the Cupid's efforts at that moment. He was in his element to have finally broken through and the crowd tittered and cheered them on in their sexy dance. She left after a short time back to her much amused friends watching from the sidelines and when she returned to her cheering crew, her boyfriend, not wanting to be outdone, strutted confidently out into the circle in his barefeet and open shirt to join the Cupid in his sexy dance! The old man was overjoyed and was all over the young buck in the same way he'd just done his girlfriend. The crowd cheered as they danced while the Doors sang 'People are Strange', and the Cupid played his role in the arena that he'd created while everyone was happily entertained at the spectacle. Quite a clever little coup if he was a real street performer. And if he was just another Vegas freak, he still executed his mad desire on a willing crowd.
The show was over, the lights and sounds of the casino came up, the moving madness began again and all was whisked away with the crowd. Such a strange happening, I thought, how that old man went from being such a repulsive freak in my mind to rise as the unlikely underdog that everyone cheered for in the end. I was really happy that it worked out for him. We are all alone in our strange little ways and we need that special someone to tell us that its OK, that our strangeness is normal.
There is no such thing as normal, especially in Vegas.
We wandered away from Fremont and found some peaceful streetside seats on the patio of the Mob-Bar for a little something to eat. They had a tapas menu, with everything about $5-$10. Service was excruciatingly slow but that was OK, lots of time to quell the nerves and centre myself over beers and Tanya's company. The drawn out 1.5hr dinner was amazing and our waitress comp'd us a round of beers for our extended wait for food and many apologies for the slowness of their kitchen, so all was well. One thing I can say about Vegas, the service is Tops! They WANT you at their establishment and they're happy to serve you, whether its fake or not who knows but I get the feeling its genuine because it happens everywhere you go. You want to leave a tip for them, because they care. After some food and beer, I was ready for the crowds again and we wandered back into the madness.
I'll tell ya a tale of the Vegas freaks. They're everywhere! From the visiting drunks who get out of control and make asses of themselves in public to the people who make it their life's work to dress up as movie characters and wander Fremont or the Strip and play movie character roles, making money by people getting their picture taken with them. Some of the characters are good, some are just horrible. Some make no sense whatsoever. Some, I think, are just regular Joe's who are deciding that today, because anything goes in Vegas, I will wander the crowd with my balls hanging out just to see how long I can get away with it. I haven't seen that yet and hope I never do, but I know its out there somewhere. The freaks, publicly playing out the human fantasy.
It was 10pm. Every hour the Fremont lights dim to make way for the Big Show, the ginormous LED screen canopy comes to life to honor long gone rock'n rollers with a video montage set to their music and played through an amazing, kickass sound system of hundreds of speakers. Everything on Fremont street stops in its tracks to stare at the kaleidescope of video overhead. I was ready to leave earlier but Tan urged me to stay for the Doors show, and being a big fan I was OK with that. We staked out a good spot, and the street stopped moving as the lights dimmed and the sound came up all around.
I was staring at the ceiling watching the video and enjoying the music when all of a sudden, an old man flittered past me and the first thing I noticed was that he wasn't wearing any pants and has his underwear jimmied up his ass crack. He whirled into the crowd like a ballet dancer in his barefeet and a dirty old white t-shirt, and had a pair of feathery fairy wings strapped to his back. He was also wielding a badly designed bow and arrow with a fat, red heart on the end of his arrow. I clued in, he's supposed to be a cupid. A terrible, old, gay fucking cupid. With exception of his badly designed wings and bow, he was just a gross old man in his t-shirt and underwear up his ass, twirling about in public doing ballet moves he shouldn't be doing. It was repulsive. He flirted and twirled about the crowd looking for a place to strike, but everywhere he flittered the people moved back. It seemed innocent enough but he was freaking people out and soon, a wide berth opened up all around him and all the paparrazzi got their cameras out to take pictures and film him. I was right on the edge of this vortex of madness but I refused to move from my space, trying to ignore him and just waiting for him to tempt me so i could shove a big Fuck Off fist in his face. Tanya was freaked out too, and called me to move away from him. The old man flittered around the crowd, pitifully alone in his ever-widening circle from person to person, couple to couple, seeking the attention no one would give him while Jim Morrison screamed 'Break on Through to the other side' high above the scene. This went on an awkwardly long time until suddenly, out from of the crowd came a deliciously curvy young blonde, striding seductively out towards him in her bare feet, long curly locks and a short, skin tight white dress! She sashayed up to him and put her arms around his neck and joined the old man in his flittering dance of love! The Cupid was all aglow, so happy his aphrodite had finally arrived! She played the part so well too, so sexy, so delicious! I'm sure every man in the audience was envious of the Cupid's efforts at that moment. He was in his element to have finally broken through and the crowd tittered and cheered them on in their sexy dance. She left after a short time back to her much amused friends watching from the sidelines and when she returned to her cheering crew, her boyfriend, not wanting to be outdone, strutted confidently out into the circle in his barefeet and open shirt to join the Cupid in his sexy dance! The old man was overjoyed and was all over the young buck in the same way he'd just done his girlfriend. The crowd cheered as they danced while the Doors sang 'People are Strange', and the Cupid played his role in the arena that he'd created while everyone was happily entertained at the spectacle. Quite a clever little coup if he was a real street performer. And if he was just another Vegas freak, he still executed his mad desire on a willing crowd.
The show was over, the lights and sounds of the casino came up, the moving madness began again and all was whisked away with the crowd. Such a strange happening, I thought, how that old man went from being such a repulsive freak in my mind to rise as the unlikely underdog that everyone cheered for in the end. I was really happy that it worked out for him. We are all alone in our strange little ways and we need that special someone to tell us that its OK, that our strangeness is normal.
There is no such thing as normal, especially in Vegas.
To know where one is going, one must know from where you came...
Today we start again. This is my 4th official attempt at blogging, and given my new adventure I felt it necessary to make my journals public for the benefit of all those who would like to follow my adventures. Y'see, two weeks ago I moved to Las Vegas-Nevada from Moncton-New Brunswick. 3273 miles (5267kms), which would take 53 hours of driving if one ever wanted to travel by car from there to here, or here to there. I hope to do that ride someday. I have lived away from home before, in Ottawa-ON for a number of years, 12hrs drive from home. But this is something wholly other, pretty much the other side of the continent. A long gawd-damn'd ways from home.
I am not much of a traveller, really. If not for my wife Tanya, this country boy would have long ago settled into some other life, contented at shirking off change and lamenting the inevitability of change. Staying the same. But alas, Tanya is a do'er, not a dreamer like I, and her drive to fulfill her every life's desire keeps our family in a state of ever-evolving change. I've learned not to fight it, that change is a good thing and it almost always results in good things happening. She is the spark in my life that keeps life interesting, always placing me into situations I am not necessarily at home with. Tanya makes smart, calculted decisions, and I've learned to trust her instincts. Still, I am a rooted man, and I have to make damned sure her calculations are a worthy endeavor. They usually are, and one way or another, Tanya usually gets what she wants for the betterment of us both. I know I am a very lucky guy to have her, because she is an angel upon this world and my own personal saving grace. If you know her, you know what I am saying.
The tail end of 2011 found us in a funk. We were starting to spin our wheels in Moncton, looking ahead to the impending winter and dreading what was to come. After 8yrs of grueling it out, we were stuck. It seemed we had reached the end of the road and we desperately needed some kind of change to shake up our lives. Looking back at it now, it was uncanny the way the stars aligned for us. A fortune teller might have been able to connect the dots for us, because for months leading up to the drop everything around us had been pointing to Vegas. We started making little changes in our lives to try to affect the outcome, to get out of the rut and then, late one night in November I was suddenly stricken awake from a very deep sleep to an absolute mental clarity, which was very odd. It was 4am and my skin was crawling with giddiness at the premonition I'd had, that the universe had suddenly shifted in our favor and something big was about to happen. I shook Tanya awake to tell her... "yeah?..." she cackled, and sighed back to sleep. Two weeks later, she got a job offer from a boss in Gratz-Austria, to come to work for her in Vegas. It took no time at all for us to decide that we would take the opportunity and make the huge, continental, cross-border jump to begin this new life in the desert. And that was that.
So here we are. I named this blog 'Las Vegas: A Mountain Man's Experiences in the Desert' because, as you may or may not know, I am a mountain man. My home community in northern New Brunswick is called 'Mann's Mountain', named after my Great-Great Grandfather Richard Mann, whose name I carry as my middle name. No one knows where this place is unless you live out that way, in 'the Sticks' as the old taunt used to go. As a kid I didn't really like it out there, so far away from everything. We were usually outsiders at school, until we started kicking ass at all kinds of sports because that's what we hicks did every night, every weekend, all the time. We played sports. And it wasn't til much later in life, after high school, when I brought friends home from university and got to see my own stompin' grounds through their eyes how wonderful a place it actually was. The mountains, the river, the rock beaches against all that lush greenery. It was beautiful. Only then did I realize it, and then began to miss it and the people who were so dear to me.
Mann's Mountain is on the banks of the Restigouche River, directly across from Matapedia-Quebec where the train crosses the bridge on its way to Montreal. Growing up in the 70's and 80's, we never had TV, or video games, or any toys that required batteries. We had our bikes and our imaginations and the wilderness that was our infinite playground. We weren't allowed to fish due to the wealthy American interests in the area, but we spitefully did so anyway and skirted the law to get away with whatever we could whenever we could. Dad worked at the Department of Transportation his whole life on the roads to make ends meet, and mom took care of us. We were poor, but we never knew it because we had an amazingly rich family support system of Great Aunts and Great Uncles who loved us and helped our family immensely. This upbringing of family values made me a very wealthy man, without a penny to ever call my own. I want for nothing in this life, I have enough to see me through to its end no matter what may come. Money is the way the world works and I have to play the game to survive, but it rates very low on my scale of things that are important to me. I could survive without money, without government. These are the meager beginnings of my life in Mann's Mountain, and this is the lens through which I relate to the world, for better or worse.
I never would have imagined in my life that I would be living in Las Vegas. I have always held a fascination with the desert. I don't know how that was incubated in Mann's Mountain, maybe dad's old records, the Beach Boys, The Ventures, the Beatles, Dick Dale, and that whole 60's scene that seemed to revolve around living in California and that beach lifestyle. So damned far out of reach, a world away from where I was. I don't know where I picked it up, but I've always been fascinated by that era, and that far-out mindset. I've written stories and songs about the desert and I've researched it plenty, the mystical wonderland of emptiness, the vast void. But I never thought I would get here, much less LIVE here. So this is a pretty wild life-excursion for me! I'm going to make the most of it and try to keep blogging about my adventures to share with whoever wants to take the time to read.
So away we go! Enjoy!
I am not much of a traveller, really. If not for my wife Tanya, this country boy would have long ago settled into some other life, contented at shirking off change and lamenting the inevitability of change. Staying the same. But alas, Tanya is a do'er, not a dreamer like I, and her drive to fulfill her every life's desire keeps our family in a state of ever-evolving change. I've learned not to fight it, that change is a good thing and it almost always results in good things happening. She is the spark in my life that keeps life interesting, always placing me into situations I am not necessarily at home with. Tanya makes smart, calculted decisions, and I've learned to trust her instincts. Still, I am a rooted man, and I have to make damned sure her calculations are a worthy endeavor. They usually are, and one way or another, Tanya usually gets what she wants for the betterment of us both. I know I am a very lucky guy to have her, because she is an angel upon this world and my own personal saving grace. If you know her, you know what I am saying.
The tail end of 2011 found us in a funk. We were starting to spin our wheels in Moncton, looking ahead to the impending winter and dreading what was to come. After 8yrs of grueling it out, we were stuck. It seemed we had reached the end of the road and we desperately needed some kind of change to shake up our lives. Looking back at it now, it was uncanny the way the stars aligned for us. A fortune teller might have been able to connect the dots for us, because for months leading up to the drop everything around us had been pointing to Vegas. We started making little changes in our lives to try to affect the outcome, to get out of the rut and then, late one night in November I was suddenly stricken awake from a very deep sleep to an absolute mental clarity, which was very odd. It was 4am and my skin was crawling with giddiness at the premonition I'd had, that the universe had suddenly shifted in our favor and something big was about to happen. I shook Tanya awake to tell her... "yeah?..." she cackled, and sighed back to sleep. Two weeks later, she got a job offer from a boss in Gratz-Austria, to come to work for her in Vegas. It took no time at all for us to decide that we would take the opportunity and make the huge, continental, cross-border jump to begin this new life in the desert. And that was that.
So here we are. I named this blog 'Las Vegas: A Mountain Man's Experiences in the Desert' because, as you may or may not know, I am a mountain man. My home community in northern New Brunswick is called 'Mann's Mountain', named after my Great-Great Grandfather Richard Mann, whose name I carry as my middle name. No one knows where this place is unless you live out that way, in 'the Sticks' as the old taunt used to go. As a kid I didn't really like it out there, so far away from everything. We were usually outsiders at school, until we started kicking ass at all kinds of sports because that's what we hicks did every night, every weekend, all the time. We played sports. And it wasn't til much later in life, after high school, when I brought friends home from university and got to see my own stompin' grounds through their eyes how wonderful a place it actually was. The mountains, the river, the rock beaches against all that lush greenery. It was beautiful. Only then did I realize it, and then began to miss it and the people who were so dear to me.
Mann's Mountain is on the banks of the Restigouche River, directly across from Matapedia-Quebec where the train crosses the bridge on its way to Montreal. Growing up in the 70's and 80's, we never had TV, or video games, or any toys that required batteries. We had our bikes and our imaginations and the wilderness that was our infinite playground. We weren't allowed to fish due to the wealthy American interests in the area, but we spitefully did so anyway and skirted the law to get away with whatever we could whenever we could. Dad worked at the Department of Transportation his whole life on the roads to make ends meet, and mom took care of us. We were poor, but we never knew it because we had an amazingly rich family support system of Great Aunts and Great Uncles who loved us and helped our family immensely. This upbringing of family values made me a very wealthy man, without a penny to ever call my own. I want for nothing in this life, I have enough to see me through to its end no matter what may come. Money is the way the world works and I have to play the game to survive, but it rates very low on my scale of things that are important to me. I could survive without money, without government. These are the meager beginnings of my life in Mann's Mountain, and this is the lens through which I relate to the world, for better or worse.
I never would have imagined in my life that I would be living in Las Vegas. I have always held a fascination with the desert. I don't know how that was incubated in Mann's Mountain, maybe dad's old records, the Beach Boys, The Ventures, the Beatles, Dick Dale, and that whole 60's scene that seemed to revolve around living in California and that beach lifestyle. So damned far out of reach, a world away from where I was. I don't know where I picked it up, but I've always been fascinated by that era, and that far-out mindset. I've written stories and songs about the desert and I've researched it plenty, the mystical wonderland of emptiness, the vast void. But I never thought I would get here, much less LIVE here. So this is a pretty wild life-excursion for me! I'm going to make the most of it and try to keep blogging about my adventures to share with whoever wants to take the time to read.
So away we go! Enjoy!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)